Truth and Lies
by BricoleForever
Summary: When Chloe Lane Horton's life begins to crumble and her health fails where will she turn for support? She will have to learn to rely on herself and figure out where everyone else fits in her life now.
1. Chapter 1

I disclaim any implied ownership of any character and/or setting. This is just my frustrated way of trying to like my favorite soap opera better. Obviously this will be about Daniel and Chloe. I may throw in a little Brady and Nicole, but that remains to be seen.

Chapter 1

The soft breeze of early fall flitted with the gauzy curtains she had hung over the window in her kitchen. Stirring the Splenda into her coffee mug, she watched the flower pattern of the lace fabric dance with an invisible partner. It was this time of day that she liked best. It was still early before the rest of the house woke up. It was too early for the questions.

Slowly she raised the cup up to her lips and took a slow but lingering sip of the coffee that she hoped would rejuvenate her. She had been asleep for 11 hours, but somehow she felt as tired as though she had slept at all. It was a recurring theme lately. She barely had the energy to raise her arm, but still she faked the smiles and laughs of a loving wife. Fake was a good word for it.

"You always were a good liar," she told herself, staring down into the depths of the black liquid. "You've had enough practice."

She knew without looking at the clock on the microwave that her husband would soon descend the stairs to begin his morning routine. Without hesitation, he would kiss her neck and pour his own cup of java. He would then complain that she had made it too strong before asking in vain what her plans were for the day. That's when she would begin to lie.

"I'll probably visit with a few friends," she would say vaguely, never giving names or details. "Maybe do a little shopping."

Perhaps he wanted to be lied to when it came down to it. She told him the same hazy agenda each morning, but he never doubted it. He never asked just who it was that she went to see. Nor did he look about for these shopping bags that would have littered their new house had she been telling the truth.

No, his questions were more direct. "Do you love me?" he would ask each night. "You won't ever leave me – will you?"

He had no idea that she was fatigued to even think of an escape plan. The idea of packing her belongings was too daunting to consider, especially given that he would put up a fight. He would take it personally that she was unhappy. Maybe it was his fault. Maybe it was her fault. Who knew?

"Good morning sweetheart," he said, coming up behind her and kissing her neck just where the soft cotton tank met her shoulder. "Sleep well?"

She nodded, not bothering to answer. It would have been another lie. Was it a lie when you didn't speak any words? She hoped not, as she had started to keep count.

"Any plans for the day?"

"Just the usual," she said softly, hoping the volume somehow made the lie easier to roll of her tongue. "Friends, lunch, shopping."

Was that one lie or three?

He smiled, breaking from tradition and not bothering to reach for a mug of coffee. Instead, he grabbed an apple out of the bowl on the counter. With a sickening crunch, he bit through.

"For a woman who complained that she would be bored as a housewife, you certainly are fitting into the role well," he commented, sitting down across from her at the breakfast bar. "You're a regular woman of leisure now. I just dread the credit card bills."

It may have been a joke, but she couldn't help cringing at the insinuation. She had never been a woman of leisure. She'd been a brainiac in school – valedictorian and most likely to succeed. She'd been a touring opera star, recorded her own music, and traveled the world. It wasn't in her to be a trophy wife, hanging on her husband's arm and making him look better. She wasn't up for a fight though.

"You make the money, I'll spend it," she told him, using the last of her energy to slip off the stool. Without bothering to kiss him, she smiled one of the easier fake smiles she had in her repertoire. " I better take a shower."

The room was spinning and she wasn't sure that her footing would be secure enough to make it all the way to the bedroom. Willing herself, she gripped the banister with her hand as tightly as she could.

I just told three lies this morning, she reminded herself. That was barely any at all.

Running his fingers through his already messy hair, Dr. Daniel Jonas was ready to scream at the next nurse who offered him a cup of coffee. It had been flattering at first- the way the nurses and other female staff had flirted with him. They each tried to one up each other, dropping off homemade cookies and looking for any chance to talk to him. He had received anonymous notes, giggly voice messages, and even a few bouquets of flowers. He had appreciated it, even thrown a few smiles in their direction when they delivered his coffee or offered to run labs without him even asking. But this morning was different. He was different.

"Anything I can get you Dr. Jonas?" one of the nurses asked.

He shook his head, not bothering to look up. The sleep deprivation was bordering on his medical school days. He could remember 36-hour shifts that might include 15-minute naps every few hours. This was of his own making though. It was a self-inflicted hell that he had created through his own adulterous actions. Each and every time he closed his eyes it was torture.

Though he was unwilling to admit it, the torture was sweet. Her skin, her scent, the sound of her tiny moans that would escape her mouth. They all haunted him with increasing intensity.

"Dr. Jonas?" another voice queried softly.

He was about to shoot off a smart remark, but he didn't bother. Turning slowly, he saw not a female, but Brady Black standing there in front of him. The other man's features were pinched with uncertainty. He almost appeared ashamed to be standing there. "Brady? What are you doing here?"

Clearing his throat nervously, Brady pointed toward the lounge with a small shrug. He obviously didn't want to speak in front of the prying ears of the nursing staff. Without waiting for answer, he led the doctor toward the room and shut the door behind them.

"I know I shouldn't be here," Brady began, not yet sitting down as Daniel had suggested. "I'm worried. I'm more than worried. Hell, I don't know."

Daniel pointed to the chair across from him, but Brady ignored it.

"You're here for a reason," Daniel said. "I know that you're worried about someone. Is it Nicole?"

Brady shook his head and looked a bit sheepish that the doctor would assume that. "Chloe," Brady finally answered in a blurt. "Damn it, I told her to come here…to see you. She's sick, man. I'm talking really sick. That moron acts like there's nothing wrong with her, but she's not okay."

Trying to hide his own feelings, Daniel nodded. "Tell me what's going on."

"Nicole called Chloe the other day," Brady began explaining. "They have this manicure/pedicure day that they go to each week. Nicole was complaining that Chloe hadn't made the last few appointments. She said she was just tired, but Nicole didn't buy it. She confronted her and Chloe admitted that it was more than just being tired."

"So she's tired and…"

"According to Nicole, Chloe's bruising very easily, her nosebleeds are back, and she just doesn't feel right," Brady said softly. "It's like when she had…"

"Leukemia," Daniel finished. He pursed his lips together and ran a few fingers through his hair. "She won't come in will she?"

The television in the corner was still running, though someone had pressed the mute button. It provided some of the only light the room, flickering across both men's features. The bluish glow was offputting, as was the soft elevator music coming from the hall's speaker system. Sporadically it would be interrupted by an intercom call for someone to report somewhere STAT.

"She's afraid," Brady finally answered. "She won't even tell Lucas, and he's…well…She won't come here. I was hoping that maybe."

"Give me 15 minutes," Daniel said. "I'll grab a few things and meet you . Where is she?"

"Nicole went to pick her up," Brady explained. "She's going to take her over to the Dimera's, but we only have a little while."

To be continued....


	2. Chapter 2

The car ride was silent, as the two men paid attention to the freshly paved road, each buried in thoughts that they hoped the other couldn't read. Daniel had imagined himself riding to Chloe's rescue more than a few times, hell his nights were filled with unrequited fantasies that had run the gamut from killing Lucas to buying a billboard and declaring his feelings for Chloe. None of them were based in reality, but the motion of moving in her direction was already pulling him out of his safe orbit and back into hers.

Brady didn't look as though he was doing much better, but Daniel was not the type of man to press that issue. He'd heard the rumors of Brady's broken heart for his past lover, as even Chloe had mentioned on occasion that she was sure that her ex-husband was only the right opportunity away from falling back into Nicole's clutches. It had to be hard for him, both his ex-wife and former lover were now best friends. The two women chatted often and shared secrets. He probably wondered if they were talking about him.

"We don't have long," Brady repeated, squinting into the afternoon sun. "Lucas is at work and thinks she's shopping or something. Nicole had to swear we wouldn't call you, but…I know you can help her. You have to help her."

Daniel didn't verbally respond, but he did turn and face Brady's profile. The pinched look of worry was back, as was his tight grip on the steering wheel. He knew from Chloe's own admission that Brady had taken her original leukemia diagnosis very hard. He had kept vigil by her bed both day and night. Even when she was declared cured, he had treated her as though she were a fragile doll. Chloe had complained of his constant attention, telling Daniel that it was as though her ex-husband would forever view her as a china doll. Her later car accident and subsequent injuries were only fuel the fire.

"I'll do what I can," Daniel finally said, racking his brain for any logical and hopeful reason for her deteriorating condition. He knew that the unspoken worry was that the leukemia was back. Recurrence was possible and even statistically significant in cases like hers. She had few chemotherapy treatments and the bone marrow transplant had been followed up with medication, but she had refused further transplant attempts and only reluctantly took her anti-rejection medicine daily. She had said that it was her own stubborn way of making sure that the cancer did not have control over her life.

Pulling up to the house, Brady wheeled the car through the circular driveway and parked it behind a plethora of expensive European vehicles. His Toyota looked a bit out of place, but he was already scanning the windows for something. Seeing whatever it was, he grabbed the doctor's elbow and pulled him into the mammoth house. Remarkably, he knew his way around and did not lead them from his direct path. Reaching the last door in the east wing of the mansion, he swept his knuckles on the door before pushing it open.

Nicole sat with her back to the door, holding a magazine, which she probably hadn't even bothered to turn the page on in about an hour. Her blonde hair pulled back and her eyes looked between the two men. Turning back to Chloe, she pulled up the throw blanket and leaned down to whisper to her. The men couldn't hear her, but they did note that Chloe's plump lips turned up in a slight smile.

"She's going to be pissed you're here," Nicole said, sliding past the doctor and taking Brady's arm in her own. "She said anyone but you, but I guess that's Salem for you."

She took Brady out of the room before Daniel could answer, promising him coffee and fresh baked pastries were waiting downstairs. There were no instructions, no apologies.

"Chloe," he said softly, taking in her pale complexion and worried eyes. She looked thinner than she had in his dreams, the bones of her face and arms much more pronounced and defined. There were dark circles under her eyes and when she raised her hand to greet him, it trembled with what he knew was not a sign of trepidation.

She smiled at him, though it was guarded and weak. "I told Nicole I was just having trouble shaking this flu or whatever," she said. "She panicked and called Brady, which was a mistake. God knows he was going to be the hero. Dragging you here over…"

Her fight was still there, but she was looking weak. Daniel walked slowly to the bed, his eyes still locked on hers. "I'll be the judge of it being nothing or a waste of time."

He was a bit surprised that she didn't fight him, her head bobbing in a barely discernable nod.

Swallowing roughly, he began the exam, trying to focus on the science and not her skin, scent or the tiny breaths that tickled his own senses as he was so close to her. He wore his game face, keeping his lips in a thin line and not showing any emotion as he checked all of her vital signs and even drew blood for a few tests he would run at the hospital. The only words were clinical, as he asked her when the symptoms first presented and to rate the pain and fatigue. She complied though a bit quizzical with her responses in that she wasn't sure she liked the way he was being with her.

Finally he backed away from her, allowing her to pull back up the throw that Nicole had given her. He said nothing as he packed back up the bag of instruments and busied himself writing down a few notes. The room was silent except for a bird outside the window that had perched itself in an old oak tree. So he jumped when she finally spoke.

"Is it…is it anything?" she asked timidly.

He whirled on his heel, looking down at her with less professionalism and more softness in his gaze.

"You're a doctor's daughter," he reminded her. "You know I'm not going to give you a diagnosis after a simple exam. I've got tests to run and labs to check. It's too soon."

"But you can't rule anything out," she said, still avoiding the question that was obviously on her mind. He didn't answer, which was in itself a response. No, he couldn't tell her that the cancer wasn't back. He couldn't tell her that she was going to wake up in the morning and feel just fine. There were no answers yet, which left room for the fear and doubt.

"You know that we won't know anything for a few days, but even then you should probably come in to the hospital. You and Lucas are probably worried, but don't be. I'll do the worrying. You just relax and concentrate on feeling better. Don't borrow trouble."

Hearing him say her husband's name was not a comfortable feeling. She wanted to scream at him that her husband was so concerned about her that he had not even noticed her weight loss. She had been in their shared bathroom for more than half an hour the night before to try to stop a nosebleed. He had just asked her if she had an upset stomach. No, he wasn't worried. She wasn't sure she could handle it if he was worried. It was easier to lie.

Brady and Nicole had dropped her off about an hour before Lucas was due home. She had ordered dinner for him, relegating herself to the couch to sleep for a few minutes before he and Will would return. She knew Will wouldn't stay for dinner, as he was planning some romantic date in the park. That would leave her alone with her husband, something she should have felt better about.

She was just drifting off as the phone began to ring, shattering any peace that she was trying to reach. Blindly, she felt around for the receiver and finally put to her ear. "Hello," she mumbled, immediately remembering why she should have checked the caller id. Her mother's voice was loud and clear on the other line.

"You actually picked up," Nancy Wesley said, a clear note sarcasm evident. "Should I thank you or wonder what is going on?"

"Hi Mom," she said, resigning herself to a meddlesome phone call. All daughters went through it, but Chloe felt that each conversation was an attack. Nancy was not the approving woman, especially when it came to Lucas. Nancy blamed Chloe for giving up on her first marriage and thought she had rushed into the second one with little regard for anyone but herself. Lucas was older, but he had a known drinking problem that made him a worry to Nancy.

Chloe closed her eyes as she listened to her mother. She chimed in when she had to, but for the most part she just listened. She wanted to scream. She wanted to tell her mother that no she wasn't happy. She wanted to beg for help, but she wasn't sure how to do it. So she stayed silent, holding in the emotions that were stirring inside of her. It was easier that way.

The room was cold and she pulled the blanket up to cover her skin. She was never warm any longer, always looking for sweaters and blankets to stop the stinging onslaught of the air on her skin. It was as though the earth itself was conspiring against her. The air was too cool and the room spun with uncontrolled abandon to only her eyes. A part of her wished she could tell her mom how she felt. She almost did, but the words didn't come.

Instead, she played the resentful daughter card when what she needed was for someone – anyone – to see her.


	3. Chapter 3

The late afternoon sun had already faded into a dark sky by the time Chloe woke from her nap on the couch. With no lights on in the house, she was not even sure what time it was or where anyone else was. Lucas would have surely woken her when he came in as he did most days. He was usually eager to share the details of the day with her, practically showing off about what kind of business man he was. Unless he had learned some manners over night, she was sure he had not made it home.

Slowly she rose from the couch, yawning and stretching the tired muscles of her legs and back. If she'd had a cold or even a sore throat, she would have assumed it was the flu. Even her smallest toe ached with a dull throb that had become a persistent pain. Added to the discomfort was the position she had slept in, as now even her neck was stiffened from the slanted position of the couch cushions.

Without bothering with a light, the brunette padded her way into the kitchen to look at the microwave clock. She realized with a start that she had been asleep for hours when she saw the blue light of the appliance telling her it was almost 10 p.m. Using the moonlight that was streaming in through the window over the sink, she pulled her cell phone out of her purse, which she had left on the kitchen table. There were two messages waiting on her.

Neither offered a clue to her husband's whereabouts. One was from Will, asking Chloe to tell his father that he was going to spend the night with Sami. The other was from Kate, her mother-in-law, asking her to be sure that Lucas made it to the office early in the morning for a meeting that she had scheduled. She put aside her annoyance at Kate's treatment of her like a secretary to think where her husband could be, as he rarely acted so independently. For a moment she considered calling Maggie, thinking that maybe he'd forgotten to tell her about an AA meeting. But that would have meant admitting to Maggie that she didn't know where he was or why he wasn't at home.

Pressing the speed dial button on her phone, she dialed his cell number quickly, but all she got was his standard voicemail. Leaving a quick message, she tried his office. It was strange. He never turned off his cell phone, including on the occasions they went the movies. It was a point of contention between them because she preferred being less of a nuisance to the others in the audience, but to him it was no big deal. He said his phone calls were more important than someone hearing a trite line from the latest blockbuster.

Drumming her fingers on the table, she thought again about who she could call. Maggie was quickly becoming her only solution. Will would worry too much that his father was missing. Sami would probably blame her for running him off. Taking a deep breath, she punched in the numbers for Maggie, hoping that the older woman would not give her too much of a hard time.

"Hello?"

"Maggie, it's Chloe," she said, chewing on her bottom lip as Maggie paused.

"Ah yes, Chloe," Maggie finally responded. "And you are calling because…"

"I hope I'm not disturbing you, but it's about Lucas," she said. "He hasn't made it home from work yet. I'm not sure…Well I was hoping that you…"

"You were hoping I could tell you where to find him," Maggie said, obviously becoming annoyed with Chloe's trepidation. "He wasn't at his meeting here tonight, but that isn't that unusual. There's one at the Methodist church that he goes to sometimes. I also hear that he's been known to go to one down at the Riverfront Community Center. I'm sure that's all it is…unless…"

"Unless what?"

"Lucas has been asking questions lately," Maggie said. "He's a little paranoid I guess or maybe he's remembering something. I'm not sure. He thinks that you and Kate and I are hiding something from him. He's come by a few times asking me what it is that we're lying to him about. If he figured it out…"

"He could be drinking again," Chloe finished. "You didn't say anything to him, did you?"

"No," Maggie said firmly. "I told you that I wouldn't as long as you stayed away from Dr. Jonas. You've kept your end of the bargain and so have I."

"Thank you."

"Chloe, you know that I didn't do that for you," Maggie said. "Lucas lost that part of his memory because of the drinking and the accident. I saw what it did to him before. I won't do that to him again. It has nothing to do with you or what I think about you. It's about him and his sanity."

"I understand."

Daniel's apartment was dark, save a few candles in his fireplace. He would have to remove them soon to start a fire in there, but for now it was enough. He had told a few of the doctors that he was planning to read a good book, drink a glass of wine, and go to bed early, but that wasn't really on the agenda. He had poured himself a glass of whiskey and sat watching out the window as the sky changed from the soft palate of a pastel sunset to the darkened night sky with a smattering of stars and a full moon as contrast.

The phone had been ringing since he had gotten home, but whoever it was didn't bother to leave a message. He sat there ignoring it, his shirt partially buttoned and his bare feet propped on the glass coffee table. He wanted to be alone with his thoughts, pondering what the future held for him. Before there had been answers. He'd been married, happy, content. Then that was shattered. He still remembered the day – the words.

"We did all that we could…"

He'd used those words himself. They meant nothing. They were just a phrase meant to assuage the guilt of a doctor who only had science to rely on. They weren't for the family. He'd seen them all. The grieving parents. The mother. The father. The siblings and friends. He'd seen the spouses ask him how they would go on. He had no answers.

Now there was Chloe asking him questions. He still had no answers. He would have given anything to tell her that it was nothing, but that would have been a lie. Just as it was a lie when he said it was good to see her or he didn't miss her at all. It wasn't good to see her. It hurt. It wasn't that he didn't want to see her blue eyes locked his. He saw them all the time. He imagined them across the table from him. He imagined them in his bed. To see them in person though was filled with a thousand knives that cut and stabbed into him.

"Chloe," he whispered softly, taking another sip. She wasn't even his type.

That was the irony. He wasn't used to women like her. He'd dated before he even came to Salem, but they were always the same. They never challenged him or even interested him all that much. He moved from one to another, barely regretting the end of one relationship or feeling the excitement of the start of another. A psychiatrist probably would have said he was in it for the chase with Chloe, but that wasn't true either.

It would have easier if he was. He would have considered it a conquest and moved on to the next. He wouldn't be dreaming about her. The dreams would have been just sexual, but no he found himself having mundane thoughts of her just sitting and reading the newspaper. He dreamed of her shopping with him at the grocery store. He was even known to dream of her carrying his child, smiling at him struggling to build the crib. If he was just in for the chase, he wouldn't have told her he loved her.

The phone rang again.

Sighing, he reached over and checked the ID again. It was blocked. He threw it down on the couch, reminding himself to turn off the ringer as soon as whoever it was hung up. If it was an emergency, the hospital could page him.

Chloe pulled her car into a parking spot at the Cheating Heart, looking at the various vehicles in the parking lot. None of them looked familiar, but she wasn't sure if that was a relief or not. Lucas could have been anywhere. For a moment, she almost wished that she knew him better. Glancing at her cell phone again, she wondered if there was anyone left to call. Sami had hung up on her. Will had been a nervous wreck. Slapping the steering wheel with her bare hand, Chloe wondered for a minute where else she could go. This had been the last place on her list. Unless he'd had a craving for some clam chowder, she was going to have to head back to the house and hope that he found his way home.

She was deep in thought when someone tapped on her passenger side window, making her jump with fear. Once she saw who it was, she unlocked the door and let him in.

"Sami called you?" she asked, turning slightly in her seat to face him.

"I guess she thought that an addict would be the best bet for finding an alcoholic," Brady joked, laughing a little too loudly at himself. "I've been to his usual haunts, but no luck. I assume you have too."

"He's just vanished," she answered. "I'm trying not to imagine him slumped over some park bench or face down in a ditch somewhere."

Brady nodded his head slowly, watching her nervously twist the gold chain necklace around her neck. Even in the darkened car he could see the bags under her eyes. Her hands seemed even more slender. She was running off of pure adrenaline, which probably wouldn't last much longer. He'd seen it before.

"Chloe, I'm only asking because I think you'll be honest with me," he said. "You and I have seen it all together – good, bad, even worse. I've been watching. I haven't wanted to say anything, but I can't help it. You're not happy are you?"

Her blue eyes widened in surprise. "Brady, I would think that my happiness isn't really your priority anymore."


End file.
